LAMHE

I work with people every week who speak a lot. They talk about their families, their regrets, their sleep, their anger, their plans for what comes next. Different stories, different languages, different accents — and yet, after a while, the emotional rhythm feels familiar. At some point, almost everyone pauses, looks at me, and asks something without words. Are you really listening? That moment has taught me more about human connection than any textbook ever could. Over time, I have noticed how easily we make assumptions about people. We assume that those who speak confidently are emotionally strong, that those who stay busy are coping well, that those who smile often are at peace. In my experience, these assumptions rarely hold true. Some of the most articulate people I meet are carrying unspoken grief. Some of the most successful are quietly exhausted. Some of the most cheerful are carefully avoiding silence. This is not a mental-health issue alone. It is a deeply human one. Age does...

I was reading an article the other day, a BBC Future piece, about how some people say psychedelic experiences changed the way they see their gender and sexuality. I remember reading it late in the evening, phone in one hand, tea getting cold on the table, and thinking — this sounds dramatic, but something about it feels familiar too. Not because of psychedelics, but because of people. Because long before research papers and headlines, I have been sitting across from human beings who are trying to make sense of themselves, often in spaces where they were never really allowed to ask certain questions out loud. What stayed with me from that article was the word changed . And instinctively, I felt a little resistance to it. In our culture, we already live with enough fear around “badlav” — as if change itself is dangerous, suspicious, something that must be explained or justified. But identity, at least in my experience, doesn’t usually announce itself like a sudden revolution. It arrives...